The Mutilation Machination

by Jeffrey, Shaun

  Published by Deshca Press

  Copyright © 2012 by Shaun Jeffrey

  Kindle Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The Algae – first published in Premonitions #3

  Sweet Music – first published in Midnight Echo #2

  Not So Different – first published in MagusZine

  Phantasmagoria – first published in Premonitions #1

  The Mutilation Machination – first published in Premonition #4

  Clockwork – first published in Wicked Karnival #7

  The Neighbours from Hell

  In Darkness – first published in Cemetery Dance #64

  The Algae

  Although only a two-hour continental shuttle hop from New York to London, Richard Sheridan just wanted to check into the hotel and go to sleep. But first he had to meet a client about a new pharmaceutical contract.

  He'd arranged to meet Mike Travers in the hotel bar, so he settled down with a tumbler of whisky to wait … and wait. When Mike didn't show up, Sheridan took the fax out of his briefcase, noted Mike’s room number, and rode the lift up to the eighth floor.

  The lift doors slid open and Sheridan stepped out into the corridor. Counting the numbers on the doors, he made his way along the passage – it was like counting sheep and he expected to fall asleep any minute.

  When he reached Mike’s room the door was open, out of which drifted a pungent coppery aroma. Sheridan knocked and called out, "Mike, you here buddy?"

  He didn’t receive a reply and so he walked into the room expecting to find Mike asleep on the bed.

  What he didn’t expect was to find him dead. He covered his mouth with his hand and gagged. Mike was lying on the bed with a hospitality escort crouched over his legs. The sheets around his body were sodden with blood, and, even though she had bitten his penis off, the escort was still simulating oral sex. The organ protruded from her latex lips like a grotesque lollypop.

  The escort ceased her parody of bobbing for apples and looked across at Sheridan. He had never found the sex aids very attractive; their bodies looked too plastic – now he found them even more disgusting. The escort opened her mouth to speak and the penis fell out like a dead fish. "Welcome to the ..." she said, repeating the words in an electronic loop. Blood dripped down her chin and coated her synthetic breasts in a red sheen.

  Richard gagged and the contents of his stomach made an unwelcome appearance.

  The Amazon rainforest was a temporal oasis. Blankets of steam rose from the lush green fauna and the incessant drone of insects filled the air. At his own request, Sheridan had been stationed out here for three months, and yet he was still haunted by images of Mike lying on the bed with the short circuited escort. No matter how far he travelled, it seemed the nightmare followed.

  He dabbed his forehead and neck with an already sodden handkerchief and exhaled a hot sigh. The heat was unbearable.

  A dense curtain of foliage barred his path, and he hacked it apart with a machete and stepped through. The empty specimen bag banged against his side. It was easy to imagine he had stepped back in time to a primordial age.

  So far he had collected little of use for the pharmaceutical company he worked for. There were a couple of unrecorded species of plant which required further investigation, but nothing that seemed beneficial. Not that he was overly concerned.

  A bird took flight overhead, disturbing the foliage. Richard looked up. Dappled sunlight filtered through the green canopy; it would soon be dark so he had to start thinking about making his way back to camp.

  There was no sign of the bird that had taken flight, and he was about to look away when he noticed a patch of vivid green algae on the branch of one of the trees. He wouldn't have taken much notice except when the light struck the algae, it seemed to change colour, turning almost flesh-like in tone.

  Intrigued, he set his specimen bag down and took out a few tools. Located on a high branch, the algae required a climb to reach it, and by the time Richard had scrambled up the tree, the sun was sinking. Luckily, he had a small torch clipped to his belt. Sitting straddled across a branch, he turned the torch on and shone it at the algae.

  Immediately the algae changed from green to flesh coloured. He had never seen anything like it, and he wondered whether it was a unique form of photosynthesis. Using a small knife, he sliced a sample of the algae off and held it to the light. Nothing happened. He'd expected it to change colour.

  As both his hands were full, he slipped the torch between his teeth and then touched the algae he’d removed. He ran his finger across it, surprised to find that while still warm, it felt like skin.

  Wanting to feel the algae on the branch, he shuffled closer and a thorn suddenly pierced his leg. He grimaced and the torch fell from his mouth. He tried to grab it, but missed and the torch hit the branch. It bounced - luckily he managed to catch it on its way back up.

  When he looked at the torch, he saw the lens had broken, and realising it was foolish trying to work while balanced up a tree, he sliced a few more samples of the algae off the branch, dropped them into a specimen jar and made his way back down to terra firma.

  When safely on the ground, he wedged the torch between a vine and the tree trunk and tipped the algae out of the jar into his hand. Angling it so the light shone on it, he was disappointed to see there was still no change. Perhaps he'd imagined it.

  Exhaling slowly, he started to tip the algae back into the jar when some samples spilled onto the torch. With the glass cover broken, it fell onto the silver reflector and almost immediately he saw it start to solidify into a lump of flesh coloured material. Picking the substance off, he held it in the palm of his hand and stroked it.

  It was incredible. The texture was remarkably skin-like. He peered closely at it, and noticed what looked like pores across the surface.

  After a couple of minutes, the substance became unstable and fell apart as it turned back into green algae. Wondering whether it was just a fluke, Richard tipped more algae onto the torch lens, smiling when he saw it change once more.

  Over the next few days, he collected more of the algae and proceeded to experiment with it. He found it reacted to mild electrical charges, and by using different voltages, he could manipulate it, changing its thickness and colour.

  Realising the possible value as an artificial skin, he kept his work secret and started cultivating the plant life until he became quite the green-fingered horticulturist.

  The nightmare vision of Mike in the hotel room slowly faded, and instead he started to dream about a new breed of escorts, ones so lifelike they were indistinguishable from real people.

  A few calls later, and he set up a meeting with an escort manufacturer in Bangkok. He demonstrated the algae a week after, using a prosthetic limb wired up to a battery. The owners of the company were amazed how life-like and tactile the algae was, and plans were implemented to start work on a new range of escorts.

  Sheridan had never been happier.

  Diffused sunlight filtered through the grimy basement window of the Las Vegas, New Moon Hotel.

  The door opened and Morgan Booker looked up from his files and grimaced as the naked escort entered.

  "Jesus, you've had a rough one, Michelle." He shook his head and dropped the files on the desk. The escort's body was covered in bloodless lesio
ns, which he guessed were lash marks. "Sit on the chair and I’ll have a look."

  The escort walked across the room and sat on a plastic chair that had a large hole in the seat. While he inspected her, the escort remained impassive.

  During his time at the hotel, Morgan had seen his fair share of wounds, but these were probably some of the worst. Even though the escorts weren't real flesh and blood, he couldn't imagine what sort of person got their kicks doing this shit to them. For some reason, people seemed to treat the new lifelike models worse than the old latex versions.

  “Right, lets get you cleaned. Code C, release vaginal, anus and mouth tubes.”

  At his command, the flesh around the escort's orifices appeared to curdle and three cylindrical tubes fell out, the anus one landing noisily on the ground between her feet. The remaining holes of cratered flesh made the escort look as though she'd been pierced by bullets.

  Morgan retrieved the tubes and held them up. “You have been busy.”

  The escorts looked so lifelike that to see them with their tubes removed was an unsettling experience for most people, but Morgan was used to it after so many years – the only thing that shocked him were the wounds people inflicted.

  “How's your energy supply?”

  Despite having no lips now the skin had peeled back to allow the tubes out, Michelle could still reply (it made punters feel better to see lips moving in time with the words, but it wasn't necessary as she had an inbuilt electronic voice box). “Energy’s at seventy percent.” When she spoke, her voice sounded seductive, designed to thrill.

  “OK, I'll give you a quick boost.”

  As he busied himself coupling the plug to her neck, a naked male escort entered the room.

  “Been busy, Karl?” Morgan asked.

  “I'm running low on ejaculation fluid,” he replied in a husky voice. He sat on a seat next to Michelle.

  “So that's one for a wash, and the other for some more juice. You guys don't half keep me busy.” Morgan whistled while he worked. His job description of 'Escort Service Agent' sounded grand, but the reality was that he cleaned up other peoples mess. He often likened it to people who ate meat: if they had to kill the animal first, they would probably turn vegetarian, and if they had to clean out the escorts, they wouldn't want to sleep with them.

  Morgan inserted Michelle's mouth tube and her skin folded down around it. She puckered her lips a few times as if testing them.

  “Right,” Morgan said, “we’d better repair Michelle. If you both stand up and embrace, I’ll up Michelle’s charge.”

  The two escorts stood up and hugged each other. Morgan turned a dial to increase the charge and after a couple of seconds, their algae skin began to meld them together. Wherever they joined, they fused. Their faces became inseparable, giving them a grotesque appearance, and their arms and torsos melted into each other.

  Morgan had only discovered their ability to join by accident – but as a result he noticed if they’d had any lesions, they were gone when the escorts separated.

  He clapped his hands together in front of his face and watched them for a while as they performed their bizarre embrace. The artificial skin stretched thin enough between them he was able to see the transparent torso underneath.

  “OK, that's long enough. You can separate now.” He watched as they started to pull apart, but then he noticed something within Michelle's transparent torso.

  “Stop,” he screamed. “Hold on a minute, there's something strange here.” He leaned forward and put his hands on Michelle's shoulders. There was definitely something foreign hanging between the electronic components.

  The escorts stood still, the flesh stretched taut between them.

  “Michelle, run an internal scan.”

  “All systems are functioning,” she said.

  Morgan licked his lips. “Give me a data check on any unknown objects found.”

  “All systems functioning,” she repeated.

  “Christ, do I have to spell it out. What's that object inside your torso?”

  “It’s an autogenic embryo.”

  “You what?”

  “I'm pregnant,” she said.

  “You're what?”

  “Pregnant,” she repeated.

  Morgan took a deep breath. “That's impossible. Run another diagnostic.”

  “I don’t need to run another diagnostic. Asexual reproduction of the algae has been disrupted by the introduction of human sperm, resulting in cross-fertilisation.”

  “Holy shit!” Morgan collapsed into one of the chairs. “This can't be happening.” He massaged his temples and his fingers came away slick with sweat. “Are there any other pregnant escorts?”

  “All of those who copulate with men.”

  “Jesus wept, that could be all of you then.” He stared at the embryonic sack suspended inside her torso. “How long before, you know, it's born?”

  “Aided by the electric stimulus used to mould the algae, the birth is imminent.”

  “Why … I mean, how can a man fertilise a bloody plant? It's not possible.”

  “The symbiosis of the organisms is to a mutual advantage. The sperm needed to fertilise an egg, and the algae needs to spread.”

  “So you mean they've helped each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bloody hell, this is crazy. I can’t deal with this … This is serious. We've got to stop it.”

  Michelle and Karl stared dispassionately at him through their combined features.

  Morgan couldn't believe it. There were 48 escorts in the New Moon Hotel alone, and combined with others around the world, there must be hundreds of thousands of them. Since the discovery of the algae flesh, escort sales had gone through the roof.

  He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a packet of cigarettes. His hands shook as he lit one. He took a couple of puffs and exhaled a wispy umbilical cord that momentarily attached him to the cloud hovering above his head.

  “Well, that's it. We need to tell someone.” He racked his brain, trying to think. Then he recalled reading an interview with the man who discovered the algae. Perhaps he could help?

  Morgan switched on his computer and performed a trace for Sheridan. He wasn’t hard to find.

  “Come on, we’re going on a trip,” Morgan said.

  Morgan parked outside the large wrought iron gates and pressed a button on the intercom affixed to a post at the entrance.

  “Yes,” a voice replied after a minute.

  "Mr Sheridan, please, I need to speak to you."

  "About what?"

  "It's about the escorts. There's a problem with them."

  "Well what are you telling me for? Tell the company that makes them."

  "But sir, one of them is pregnant."

  "Look, I don't like being woken up with stupid pranks. Now if you don’t piss off I’m going to call security."

  Morgan wanted to argue further, but he knew it would be pointless. "The arrogant sod wouldn't even listen to me," he mumbled before lighting a cigarette. “Pompous git." He blew a cloud of smoke from between pursed lips and glanced in the rear view mirror. "Right you two, follow me."

  Sheridan jerked awake. His body felt sluggish, and when he tried to stretch, he found he couldn't move. He turned his head, stunned to see an escort lying beside him. Turning to the other side, he saw another escort on his other side, this one a man. Both of them were coupled up to the socket in the wall.

  He raised his head and stared in shock at the blanket of taut flesh stretched across him like a sheet.

  "I’m sorry about this, but I need to speak to you."

  Sheridan traced the speaker who was seated in a chair across the room.

  "What the hell do you want?" Sheridan barked.

  "I thought you might like to see the problem for yourself. That’s Michelle. The other one’s Karl."

  Sheridan's temples pounded like taut drum skins. "What are you blithering about? Let me go immediately."

  "Like I tried
to tell you earlier, there's a problem. Michelle's pregnant. It has something to do with the semen that's spilt onto the algae."

  Sheridan gritted his teeth. This was ridiculous. They couldn't hold him against his will. And how had the escorts managed to spread their skin across him like that? And what was the idiot going on about? Escorts couldn't get pregnant.

  The man opposite settled back in his chair and clasped his hands below his chin. "I know you don't believe me, but we won't have to wait very long now. Michelle's already informed me that the birth’s imminent."

  "Just let me go. I'll have you arrested for this you blasted fool."

  "Michelle, code C, release vaginal tube."

  At Morgan's command, Michelle parted her legs and the tube slid out onto the bed, followed by a blanket of green algae that undulated and twitched. After a moment, the algae started to move. It slid up Sheridan's leg and along his chest until it reached his chin.

  Sheridan screamed. What the hell was going on? Was it a nightmare?

  The algae felt cold and slimy against his skin, and before he could react, it slithered up his nostrils and into his mouth and down his throat.

  Morgan watched speechless from the chair. He had not expected that to happen. Now he was in trouble.

  As he watched Sheridan gag, he noticed the man's eyes turn from brown to jade.

  He jumped up and ran across the room. "Michelle, Karl, separate goddamn it. Quick."

  The escorts retracted their skin back onto themselves and then moved aside.

  Before Morgan reached him, Sheridan swung his legs off the bed and stood up.

  Morgan stopped and stared. He noticed a slight green tinge to Sheridan's flesh – the man didn't look very well. He didn't look very well at all.

  "Oh my god, Mr Sheridan I'm so sorry. I never expected that."

  Sheridan didn't seem to hear him. He wandered around the room, coating whatever he touched with a dull green residue like a grotesque Midas touch.

  Morgan backed away. Talk about being green fingered. He remembered something Michelle had said, something about the algae wanting to spread. And then Sheridan touched him.